


fucked up to ride a bike with a mask on

by harperuth



Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Jealousy, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Marking, Multi, Post-War, Semi-Public Sex, Spark Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Spit Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, aft play, and the valiant return of, now with one hundred percent more enthusiastic verbal consent, valve slapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “So, bonds and possessiveness,” Deadlock opened the volley before Ratchet had even gotten the lights up to one hundred percent, “How long does that last?”“Primus' sake, kid,” Ratchet grumbled, not even jumping at the Decepticon’s famed assassin waiting for him in a dark room full of potential improvised weaponry.- - -Or, Deadlock and Hot Rod figure out this new 'being bonded' thing, with some help.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock & Ratchet, Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod, Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod/Grimlock, Hot Rod & Dinobots
Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626400
Comments: 46
Kudos: 179





	fucked up to ride a bike with a mask on

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a joke sequel to tryna be nasty bc i wanted to use the word 'hotlocklock' and well. here we are. rip.
> 
> title is once again from 'stay safe' by tiny meat gang

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ratchet snapped at him. Deadlock didn’t flinch.

“Roddy’s hanging out with his friends, and I’m hanging out with mine,” Deadlock flicked his gaze to and away from Ratchet, who’d faltered briefly in his inventory intake, “We’re establishing different interests, the way you told us to.”

“And just how long have we been friends?” Ratchet sounded a little bit proud under the acidic tone, and Deadlock preened internally.

“Since you’re the only one who talks back to me,” Deadlock stretched, flashing fang at Ratchet when he turned enough to make sure Deadlock could see him roll his optics, “Well, Arcee does too, but I like you better.”

“I’m honored,” Ratchet deadpanned. He turned fully, settling against a medberth, “And how is all...that going for you two?”

Deadlock fought the instinctive snap that it was none of his business, that Roddy was _his_ and he couldn’t have him. Ratchet had sat them down in his office after he deemed the bond no longer on the verge of collapsing them both from spark failure for a pretty intensive lecture on bonds. 

(“He’s a mech, not a toy,” Ratchet explained, “The possessiveness is normal for a newly forged bond, especially when it needs to be revitalized, but that _mine_ bullshit will not fly anymore. I allowed you the one because you were on the verge of forced stasis, but _never again_ you heathen.”)

“Our sparks aren’t tugging so much anymore,” Deadlock offered, “I’m here and he’s out there.”

He focused in on the pitter-patter beat in his spark that was just a klik too fast to be his own. Roddy was having fun, doing whatever with whoever. His glee ran through the bond unfiltered. Neither of them were any good at controlling what got sent or held back yet, but so far it seemed to mostly be emotional, rather than full communication.

Roddy’s happiness was sweet, and wind-tinged, and just a little bit of zinging charge. It warmed Deadlock’s spark, “He’s having fun right now.”

“And the other stuff?” Ratchet shot him a look that would have a lesser mech squirming. Deadlock raised an optic ridge.

The lecture hadn’t stopped at new bonds. 

(“Sit back down,” Ratchet snapped, “Every new mech forged in the War is getting this one. You baby Cons have some interesting notions about interfacing and consent— sit _down_ Hot Rod, I know just how young you are too and I know your team has been too busy to have this conversation with you.”)

Deadlock grinned at Ratchet, more than a little smug as he deliberately shifted in his seat, “Roddy spiked me _real good_ the other day. You were so right about it being fun both ways.”

“Primus’ sake,” Ratchet rolled his optics to the ceiling, pushing off the medberth to yank Deadlock out of his seat, “I don’t need to hear this shit from a forgeling. Get out, I have a date and I need to finish my inventory before I can go.”

“You said it’s not a date if all you do is frag,” Deadlock snickered, “What’s the truth, huh? Doctor?”

“See if I save your aft when you fall off a cliff because you can’t stop staring at Hot Rod’s bumper,” Ratchet grumbled, herding him to the door.

“Ooo, _testy_ ,” Deadlock may have fallen into outright giggling, but he wasn’t admitting slag, “Is it the Prime and his spy again? I know they _like_ you.”

Ratchet’s faceplates pinked up, and he gave one last shove. Deadlock stumbled out the door and kept giggling as it slammed in his face, “When are you gonna let them lock you down?! You’re a hot piece Ratch, you should go for it!”

Deadlock’s comm pinged, and he opened the text-only, “ **I’m perfectly happy unattached you little monster, which they both understand. Go find your boyfriend, clearly the pining has made you more insolent than usual.** ”

“ **Overcharged old mech** ,” Deadlock shot back, thumping on the door once and walking away.

“ **Mannerless bratling** ,” Ratchet responded.

Deadlock ignored him. Well, except for the finding Roddy part. That did sound pretty good right now.

\- - -

Roddy was... _playing_ catch?

As far as Deadlock could tell, Roddy was the _ball_ in a game of catch that seemed to be an escalating competition. The data packet he’d accepted from Roddy of everyone’s names spat out the Dinobot roster. Sludge and Snarl appeared to be tossing Roddy as high as they could into the air and Swoop was...well, swooping in to catch him and deposit him back into the waiting arms of the next Dinobot to toss, gleefully reporting the achieved altitude.

Grimlock and Slag lounged off to the side of the clearing, unconcerned for the ball of idiot that Deadlock had tied his spark to.

Sludge reared back and hurled Roddy, who was laughing and trying to do a flip before Swoop caught him. He caught sight of Deadlock mid-turn and yelled a greeting that Deadlock was too far away to hear. The distraction meant that he didn’t finish a full flip though, and a yelping Swoop caught him by the ankles.

Deadlock strolled up to hear the tail end of Swoop’s lecture, “...scare me Swoop like that! Him Hot Rod could have been seriously hurt, need him Mama to fix!”

“But ya caught me, right Swoop?” Roddy’s voice was ventless, plating flushed and shuffling like it couldn’t sit still. Like Roddy couldn’t be still, and Deadlock wasn’t surprised when he caught his optic and was immediately gifted an armful of Roddy.

He also wasn’t surprised to catch a mouthful of Roddy. He kissed hard and fast, still ventless and tasting like the wind. Deadlock nipped at his lip plate as they separated, “Hey there hot stuff.”

“You gotta try this dude,” Roddy babbled, glossa poking at the little indent on his lip plate unconsciously. Deadlock stared and something in his spark rumbled happily. Roddy didn’t even notice, “Oh! Wait, you gotta meet everyone!”

Roddy whirled back around, dragging Deadlock with him. Ever since he had arrived on Earth and they hadn’t had to meet clandestinely this had become something of a routine. Roddy made friends, anywhere and everywhere he went. Deadlock was bemused enough to be tethered in his wake.

“These are the Dinobots!” Roddy waved a servo over the whole lot, either expecting Deadlock to remember each one’s designation, or just forgetting that minor detail. He was betting on the latter, “Guys, this is Deadlock!”

Snarl peered down at them, optical ridges furrowed, “Him Deadlock reason him Mama sit us Dinobots down for ‘nother interface talk?”

Roddy cackled. Deadlock shrugged, and let himself smile up at Snarl. It was kind of nice, he realized, that they didn’t talk circles around the gossip that the Ark had been overrun with behind his and Roddy’s back. Snarl smiled back and didn’t flinch or rock away from the servo that Swoop reached out to smack him with, “Him Snarl shush. It’s sweet, them sparks. Him Mama think it’s sweet too, just want us to be knowing.”

“Him...Deadlock,” Sludge spoke up, his vocalizer deeper than any that Deadlock had ever heard before. He paused for a long moment, and Deadlock watched him. Sludge finally nodded, “Try?”

“Yeah!” Roddy pulled at the grip he still had on Deadlock’s servo, “Wait, if you’re okay with it? Ratchet said we have to ask, right?”

He glanced back at Deadlock. He shrugged, “Yes?”

“See!” Swoop said, apparently to the rest of the Dinobots, “It’s sweet. Me Swoop go flying, you group ping when they Hot Rod Deadlock go up.”

He transformed and took off. Deadlock watched him pick up a lazy circle around their clearing, high enough to see any incoming threat, but low enough to provide backup should a threat come. Interesting. Roddy tugged at his servo, “Wanna try?”

“If they wanna,” Deadlock shrugged, “It felt fun.”

He tapped his chestplate and Roddy’s optics glowed, “You could feel that?”

“Felt like wind,” Deadlock nodded, then turned to Sludge and Snarl, “So who’s the best at throwing?”

Snarl snorted and turned away, heading for where Slag and Grimlock had been. Deadlock looked up at Sludge, who shrugged massive shoulders, “Me...Sludge…”

He trailed off, looking frustrated. He lifted a servo a few times, miming a throw. Roddy was quiet beside him, for once, waiting patiently, so Deadlock didn’t say anything.

“Throw,” A quiet voice rumbled behind them. Deadlock shivered. He hadn’t heard anyone come up behind them, and the voice was low, rolling over his plating in the best way.

“Throw...best,” Sludge finished, satisfied. Deadlock nodded, then looked over his shoulder. Grimlock stood tall behind them, not looming, just... _there_. Beside him Roddy babbled something at Sludge, the language sounding Cybertronian but not...quite. It sounded close to chatterspeak that they had spoken in the Dead End. Sludge answered in kind, his deep voice moving a little quicker over the sounds. 

Deadlock didn’t look away from Grimlock’s inscrutable gaze. He didn’t feel pinned...but, considered, perhaps.

“Sludge says tomorrow, if you want,” Roddy said, and he pulled his optics away from Grimlock, “He wants you to have a fresh throw, so it’s good.” 

Deadlock quirked a smile at Sludge and nodded, “Deal.”

\- - -

“Slag me,” Roddy gasped, barely pulling out before flopping completely backwards. Deadlock barely twitched at the thigh that landed up over his own.

“Primus,” Deadlock stared up at the ceiling of Roddy’s room. They’d managed to make it that far, but the berth was still a larger mystery for both of them. The floor had served pretty well today.

“I’m just gonna offline right here,” Roddy moaned, “This is it, my final resting place, killed by your valve.”

“Is it always that _intense_?” Deadlock managed to get his elbow joints under him, peering down his own chassis at Roddy, sprawled out between his spread legs, panels still open and steam rising from his plating.

“Mm,” Roddy’s face screwed up in concentration and a limp hand came up to rub over his chest plate, “Based on what I felt, it’s definitely been more intense. But like, that was special occasions.”

“Fair,” Deadlock considered as he pulled himself upright to get his hands back on Roddy’s frame, “I haven’t sprayed all over the place yet.”

“Yeah,” Roddy’s optics went distant, “That’s uh— _yeah_.”

As soon as he sat up he could feel Roddy’s transfluid start to ooze out of his valve. He considered this for a moment, “Hey, turn over.”

Roddy made a disgusted noise, “You seriously think I can move right now?”

“How ‘bout I turn you over then?” Deadlock offered.

Roddy looked at him with that laser sharp focus he got sometimes, “You wanna play with my aft, don’t you?”

Deadlock felt his faceplates heat and his spark jumped. His valve cycled down, pushing more transfluid out. He glanced to the side, “Yeah.”

“This consent thing is fun,” Roddy said, sounding like he hadn’t just made Deadlock want to hide away in embarrassment, “But sure, as long as you move me: do as you will to my aft, blanket permission.”

“You’re a brat,” Deadlock grumbled, but helped Hot Rod move, pulling him back until there was just enough space between their arrays to slip a servo in.

“Mm,” Roddy agreed, wiggling his hips despite his complaints about moving, “But a brat that you wanna stick your digits in.”

“A brat I’m _gonna_ stick my digits in,” Deadlock warned, reaching a servo down to swipe up some of Roddy’s transfluid from his valve.

“Are you just gonna play with yourself while you look at my aft?” Roddy complained, pillowing his helm on his arms and peeking back over his spoiler, “‘Cause if that’s the case, I’m backing up to get in on some of that friction.”

“Shut up,” Deadlock rolled his optics, bringing slippery digits up from his valve.

“Oo, is that mine?” Roddy’s fans, which had been starting to cycle down, clicked back up again, “Frag, that’s hot. You gonna put that in my aft?”

Deadlock felt like he might offline. There was something about talking about it that made his plating clatter. Like he wanted to transform and drive and never come back. But another part of him was clamoring to mark Roddy, make him _his_ , and also charged him up like no tomorrow to know that Roddy _wanted_ this, wanted him, as cavalier as he was about, “Yes.”

“Nice,” Roddy wiggled his hips again, and even without feeling it Deadlock knew that his array was probably back online and primed for another round, “Go for it.”

“I hate you sometimes,” Deadlock said plainly, meanly, but he knew his spark pulsed with affection, possessiveness, and wasn’t mad when Roddy laughed at him, his vents hitching as Deadlock started spreading transfluid across his aft port.

\- - -

“I thought I kicked you out yesterday,” Ratchet said, exasperation clear over the sound of the door sliding open.

“Was that a permanent affliction?” Deadlock glanced around Ratchet’s office in feigned shock, “Primus doctor, I’m a miracle.”

“Get out of my chair, you hooligan,” He was fighting a smile, Deadlock could tell, “I have work to do. Not all of us get to lounge in indolence because we bonded on accident.”

“Is that the only reason?” Deadlock did give up his chair, turning instead to sit on the desk. Ratchet’s optic twitched. He considered it a win, “I just figured no one wanted to try and tell me what to do.”

“Like fear or faction would ever stop Ultra Magnus from a well apportioned duty roster,” Ratchet snorted, “You and Hot Rod both are under temporary leave until your sparks are at one hundred percent after an entire three cycle separation.”

“ _Three cycles?_ ” Deadlock hissed before he could stop himself. How long was that going to take? As it was the best they could manage right now was a handful of groon.

Ratchet rolled his optics, “No one believes me when I tell them how critical spark injuries are or how dangerous bonding is, and then they get all uppity when they hear things like that.”

“Uppity,” Deadlock repeated tonelessly, “And perhaps they don’t believe you of all mechs sounding fatalistic about bonding. Speaking of, how was your date?”

“And just what is that supposed to mean,” Ratchet’s toneless was, admittedly, a little intimidating. Deadlock was secure enough in his own intimidation to do so.

“You have an entire army, and honestly, half of another one who would kill to court or bond you,” Deadlock shrugged, “I’m amazed your aft alone didn’t bring about peace before now.”

“I will reformat you into a go-kart,” Ratchet threatened, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.

“You already used that one, and face it Ratchet,” Deadlock sighed, “You’re the hottest piece on this mudball.”

“Um,” Deadlock flinched and looked over his shoulder at Roddy lingering in the doorway. He saw Ratchet lean away out of the corner of his optics and put together how this looked. Slag.

“Hey Roddy,” He said softly, trying to push something through the bond, but they still couldn’t control slag and the entire connection was drowned in Roddy’s unease and self-doubt.

“I, uh,” Roddy’s intake visibly cycled before his face brightened, but the bond still pulsed painfully, “Came to get you! I found the others and they’re good to go.”

“Go,” Ratchet said quietly. Deadlock couldn’t look away from Roddy, standing there with a smile on his face but pain in his spark, but he knew that Ratchet was giving him a look that screamed ‘you better talk about this later,’ “Have fun, Primus knows you younglings deserve it.”

Deadlock slid off the desk and hurried after Roddy, who was careful to walk just fast enough that they weren’t touching. Slag.

\- - -

“Roddy, wait,” Deadlock tried one last time, but Roddy ignored him, forging ahead into the clearing that the Dinobots were all gathered in again.

“Hey!” Roddy picked up the pace and ran ahead, leaving Deadlock in the dust, confused and spark-aching still. Deadlock knew they were both young in the grand scheme of things, no matter how much the assertion from some mechs might rankle. But the tired dread drowning the bond felt old, felt practiced as much as the smile on Roddy’s face, and Deadlock ached.

“Him...Deadlock ready...for...throw?” Sludge asked when Deadlock managed to get himself to join the rest of them, optics still on Roddy, chatting animatedly with Swoop.

“Yeah,” Deadlock said, dredging a smile up for him. Sludge smiled back.

A scraping of the ground behind him, one he knew was deliberate, was all that announced the presence of the Dinobot leader. Deadlock turned his helm just enough to catch him out of the side of his optic. Grimlock was hard to read, between the visor and the mask. At least with Soundwave you had the cassettes around to get an idea of his mood. Grimlock was a towering wall of nothing.

A towering wall of nothing that was staring at Roddy, optics a shade darker than they had looked yesterday.

Deadlock forced the growl of his engine down. _Not mine, not mine, his own bot, not mine_ , he vented carefully, forcing his gaze back to Sludge. A beat of confusion twisted across the bond, before the self-doubt washed through once more. Deadlock winced, bringing a hand up to rub at his chest.

“Him Deadlock okay?” Swoop was there suddenly, “Spark hurt?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Deadlock waved him away, “Spark’s all good.”

“Hmm,” Swoop opticked him, looking unconvinced, “Them Deadlock Hot Rod new bond still tender, tell him Mama things hurting.”

“Throw...now?” Sludge held a massive servo out.

“Swoop?” Deadlock asked.

Swoop frowned, looking like he wanted nothing more than to march Deadlock back into the medbay. Which was a bad idea. He wasn’t going back into the medbay until Roddy _talked_ to him. Ratchet wouldn't even let him in if they didn't. How was it that Roddy could talk about Deadlock overloading all over his face like it was nothing, but the second there was a feeling involved he vanished?

“Hmph,” Swoop rolled his optics and took off.

“Up...go,” Sludge’s servo moved quicker than Deadlock had imagined he was able, knocking behind Deadlock’s knee joints and dropping his aft in the center of the servo.

“Slag,” Deadlock scrambled for a grip on one of his digits, “Warn a mech.”

“Sorry,” Sludge hefted his weight a couple times, “Ready?”

Deadlock glanced back, hoping against hope that Roddy was looking. His vents stalled. Roddy was looking up at Grimlock, optics shining, while the bigger bot ducked down to say something close to Roddy’s audial. His spark slipped in it’s pulsing cycle. Roddy winced, a servo coming up to his chest, but he kept his optics on Grimlock.

Okay.

“Ready,” Deadlock agreed, letting the digit he’d been stabilizing on go, bracing himself.

Sludge reared back and launched him. Deadlock yelled, the wind rushing over his plating as he _flew_. The trees grew small as he kept going up and up and _up_. For a long weightless moment there was nothing in his spark but the open air. Is this how flyers felt _all the time_? Deadlock started to fall and yelled again, this time as exhilaration flooded his spark. Swoop grabbed his shoulder armor and swung him around in a spiraling descent.

“That,” Deadlock vented rapidly, “Was _awesome_.”

“My turn,” Grimlock’s voice still rolled over and through Deadlock’s plating, seeming to vibrate his entire protoform. Deadlock’s spark flared with Roddy’s surprise, and a zing of charge.

He didn’t quite keep the growl down this time.

Roddy’s optics flew to his for a moment, a klik of triumph on his face as Grimlock gripped him around the hips. A part of Deadlock’s processor whispered _he is kind of yours...in a way_. Swoop squawked, “No! No! Him Grimlock wait until I fly up!!”

Grimlock was still unreadable, but even Deadlock could sense the playfulness in him, “Race you?”

“No!” Swoop yelled again, “NO!!”

Grimlock chuckled, the sound rolling through Deadlock _and_ Roddy, if the echo down his spark was any indicator, and pulled Roddy back to throw. Swoop cursed intensely and creatively, lighting to the air a klik before Grimlock let Roddy fly.

Deadlock watched him long enough to make sure Swoop caught him, then turned and made for the Ark. He managed to call over his shoulder, “Make sure he doesn’t offline.”

\- - -

“What? It’s okay when you do it, but if I flirt with someone else and you get to stomp off and throw a tantrum?”

Deadlock hissed and turned, deadly quick, catching Roddy around the throat and pinning him to the wall.

Roddy gasped, servos scrabbling at Deadlock’s, the rest of him stilling instinctually. Deadlock stared at him, sinking a little into a headspace he hadn’t been in since before the armistice, “Tell me no.”

Roddy lifted his chin as far as he was able, but stayed stubbornly silent.

“Alright,” Deadlock tightened his grip, just enough to feel Roddy’s energon pulse through his main processor lines, “Then shut your vocalizer down and _listen._ ”

Roddy’s intake cycled. Deadlock bared his denta, “D’you think running away to flirt with someone else _isn’t_ a tantrum?”

Roddy opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Deadlock tightened his grip.

“If you’d have given me even a klik to explain what you walked in on in the medbay, we could still be out having fun right now,” Deadlock leaned in and nuzzled Roddy’s audial, “I like Ratchet. He’s a good friend. And that’s it. A _friend_. Ratchet’s fun, and he doesn’t softpede around me or treat me like I’m liable to flip and go ‘Con on him at any moment.”

“Sure,” Deadlock offered, shifting down to mouth at Roddy’s neck cabling, “We sound like we’re flirting sometimes. But I’m _yours_.”

He accompanied the assurance with a bite, “And you’re _mine_.”

Roddy whined, leg coming up to hook on Deadlock’s hip. Deadlock slid his nasal ridge down to the top of Roddy’s chassis, “I’m not mad that you were flirting with someone else.”

He bit down sharply on Roddy’s collar faring, digging his denta in until Roddy moaned. He soothed the dents with his glossa, “You can flirt with whoever you want Roddy.”

Deadlock used his free servo to trace down Roddy’s side, tugging at his other thigh until it also lifted and slung over his hip. He pressed forward, pinning Roddy to the wall with his hips to balance the pressure on his throat, “As long as we understand. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Spark bound, darling.”

“Mine,” Roddy panted, rolling his hips up, panel snicking away.

“Yours,” Deadlock agreed, letting his own panel transform away, spike pressurizing and pressing against Roddy’s array.

“Please,” Roddy whined, “Please, spike me hard, right here where anyone can see.”

“Show everyone I’m yours and you’re mine,” Deadlock whined in return, rolling his hips up gracelessly, spike slipping over Roddy’s lubricated array, never quite catching on his valve.

“Please, please,” Roddy begged, “Take me, spike me, fill me up, make me yours.”

Deadlock reluctantly let go of Roddy’s throat, reaching down and around to line his spike up for Roddy to sink down onto. He did, with a high keening whine of his fans, “Deadlock—”

“I’m yours, Roddy,” He buried his face in Roddy’s neck, “How do you want this?”

“Hard,” Roddy moaned, “Fast, make me hurt.”

“Yeah?” Deadlock ground up into him, “Gonna be good Roddy? Gonna earn it?”

Roddy shuddered, valve cycling down tightly, “Please.”

Deadlock didn’t answer, only looped his servos around Roddy’s thighs, digits slipping under plating to dig into soft protoform, lifting Roddy off of his spike with just enough room for him to drive back in. Deadlock dropped his head, denta finding Roddy’s collar faring once more and digging in as he thrust into Roddy, a forceful twist of his hips at the end of each motion.

“Good, good,” Roddy babbled, “Good for you— can be so good, just for you— mine— _yours_.”

Deadlock whined, spike alight with the charge in Roddy’s constantly cycling valve. He could feel Roddy’s lubricant splattering his hips and thighs with each thrust, and that was almost doing just as much to drive his charge higher, knowing that he was going to be covered in Roddy for the rest of the cycle. He whined, the sound muffled by Roddy’s collar faring still clamped between his denta.

“Oh slag,” Roddy moaned, arms and legs wrapping tight around Deadlock, valve calipers rippling and plating crackling in overload. Deadlock pressed in tight to Roddy, letting his overload wash through him. He twitched forward, grinding into Roddy, almost there but dangling on the precipice. 

Roddy panted, his engine running hot, fans screaming. Deadlock whined again, pressing Roddy harder into the wall, grinding against him, in him.

“Gonna overload in me?” Roddy gasped, digits scraping over Deadlock’s plating, scoring him, marking him, “Get your transfluid all over me? All in me? Make sure everyone knows that I’m yours?”

Deadlock’s hips jumped, a more desperate whine escaping his vocalizer. He was so close, right there, almost. Roddy gave a thoughtful hum, “I mean, everyone will already know you’re mine, I can feel how covered you are in my mess.”

Deadlock’s hydraulics locked up, and his vocalizer shorted out around a shout. His valve cycled down around nothing as his spike jumped, overload shooting through him. He gripped Roddy back just as tightly, grinding up into his valve, overload giving a hot new pulse each time he felt their transfluid and lubricant drip back down onto him.

“Yeah,” Roddy sighed, “That’s— frag, that’s it.”

They stayed wound together against the wall, engines cooling down and fans cycling down. Deadlock sighed, “We still gotta talk about it though.”

“Mm,” Roddy wiggled, clearly uncomfortable, “Or we can go back to our room and you can slap me around a bit for being a brat and trying to make you jealous.”

“Oh, you were trying huh?” Deadlock growled, then hissed when Roddy’s valve cycled down against his spent spike.

“Maybe,” Roddy sucked his lower lip plate in, “If I was, would you spank me?”

“Ha, is that what you’re after?” Deadlock let his glossa lave over the dented bite on Roddy’s collar faring, “Thought that was for special occasions?”

Roddy purred, something low and dangerous, “You want to wait for a special occasion, or do you want to sit under me while I spray lubricant all over you?”

Deadlock’s plating clattered, pulling close as spark cycled wildly. He heated all the way down to his protoform, and he knew there were bright spots of rushing energon patchworked all over him. Roddy laughed, “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t think we’re getting out of talking about this,” Deadlock gasped as Roddy’s valve cycled down again, his spike much less sensitive and far more interested in the proceedings.

“Tell you what,” Roddy bit lightly at his finial, “You slap me around a bit, I overload all over you, and then we can talk about it while you play with my aft?”

“Frag,” Deadlock shuddered, grinding against Roddy.

“You...Deadlock, you Hot Rod...know room...over...hm, there?”

They froze. Deadlock picked his head up enough to peek over at Sludge, his arms crossed and looking incredibly unphased. Roddy laughed brightly, and fell into that chatterspeak once more. Sludge chittered back, then rolled his optics and walked away.

“Hm, should probably put me down before anymore wayward Dinobots come through,” Roddy was still giggling, “Apparently they were worried.”

“Great,” Deadlock ground out, carefully lowering Roddy’s pedes to the floor and housing his spike.

“Aw, don’t be that way,” Roddy grinned, grabbing his servo and towing them through the halls, both fluid spattered and stinking of spent charge. He grinned at the few mechs they passed, all looking horrified, “You better make me overload again if you want a chance in the Pits of talking this out dude.”

Deadlock rolled his optics, but crowded Roddy back against the wall once they were in their hab alone.

\- - - 

“So, bonds and possessiveness,” Deadlock opened the volley before Ratchet had even gotten the lights up to one hundred percent, “How long does that last?”

“Primus’ sake, kid,” Ratchet grumbled, not even jumping at the Decepticon’s famed assassin waiting for him in a dark room full of potential improvised weaponry, “Why are you even awake?”

“Roddy went for an early drive,” Deadlock waved his servo in front of him, “He doesn’t recharge much apparently. Ever. It’s super weird.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Ratchet continued through the medbay, seemingly content to ignore Deadlock for the day, “You two better have talked.”

Heat flashed through Deadlock. Yes, they talked. Through three digits in Roddy’s aft port, stretching and soothing and rubbing while Roddy lay strutless in the wake of one of the most intense overloads Deadlock had ever gotten out of him. But, they had talked.

“We’re bonded—” Deadlock started, and brought a hand up to rub at his chest plates. Roddy on a drive in the morning wasn’t the same _rushing air exhilaration charge_ as flying with the Dinobots inspired. There was still _wind speed_ but the rest was strut deep _contentment_ in a way that Deadlock understood, “Accident or not, we’re each other’s. To the spark.”

“That’s generally what a bonding means,” Ratchet sounded gruff, but there was a note of approval that Deadlock took a moment to bask in.

“But,” Deadlock rubbed at his chest plate a little harder, “That’s our sparks. We’re...we’re more than that, more than our bond. And we...we can want other stuff.”

“You can,” Ratchet agreed, “But you have a new bond that almost guttered you both and that takes a toll. Your bond is going to be a little more intense than usual. I don’t know when the possessiveness is going to fade, if I’m completely honest.”

Deadlock considered this, “But what if we share?”

“Are you even old enough to consider that?” Ratchet rolled his optics, flicking through patient files.

“We talked about it,” Deadlock shrugged, “I don’t want— neither of us want to stop the other from...being them?”

“Do you think you’re not built for monogamy?” Ratchet’s digits had ceased their scrolling, but he wasn’t looking at Deadlock.

“I don’t know,” Deadlock couldn’t answer anyway but honestly, “But—”

“Don’t try it just for Hot Rod,” Ratchet interrupted, looking up at him, “That’s good for no one.”

Deadlock shrugged again, “It didn’t used to bother me. We’d meet up and frag when we could and he’d go back to his base and I’d go back to mine and I didn’t care what he got up to in the interim.”

“Alright,” Ratchet went back to his files, “As long as you two are talking.”

Deadlock squirmed, “Is it weird that he only talks after we’ve ‘faced?”

Ratchet rolled his optics, “Forgelings.”

“Whatever,” Deadlock rolled his right back, “Who was your date last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Ratchet snapped back.

“I would, that’s why I’m asking,” Deadlock hummed, “You fragged any ‘Cons yet?”

“Do you take me for an amatuer, kid?” Ratchet’s optics held a glint that Deadlock wanted nothing more to encourage, “I 'faced three ‘Cons the night the peace treaty was signed.”

“You did not,” Deadlock leaned forward, “You have to tell me who. Please?”

“I don’t have to do shit, kid,” Ratchet smirked though, “You ever 'face a bonded couple?”

“At the same time? I mean, once—” Deadlock’s vocalizer fritzed and locked up as his processor made the connection, “You did _not_.”

“I did,” Ratchet was unbearably smug.

“Megatron and Starscream?!” Deadlock sidled up next to him, clattering as much of his plating against him as possible to make Ratchet look away from the files, “Were the glyphs even _notarized_ before you dragged them to berth?”

“Probably not,” Ratchet hummed with glee, still not looking at Deadlock, but finally looking lighter and _playful_ and yes, this is what Deadlock was trying for, “But I was impatient. Talks had taken _forever_.”

“They’re good, right?” Deadlock’s plating ruffled, chiming as the memory file played in his processor.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ratchet smiled at him, sidelong, “You didn’t let Screamer spike you, did you?”

Deadlock let his optics unfocus, considering, “No. No, I didn’t. Slag, _Starscream_ , really?”

“Mhm,” Ratchet started back in on the file work. Deadlock shook himself out of the speculative memory loop.

“Who was the third?” He nudged Ratchet again.

Ratchet hummed again, his face downright mischievous.

“Do you want me to guess?” Deadlock squirmed further into Ratchet’s space.

“I just don’t think you’ll believe me,” Ratchet elbowed him, trying to regain his workspace, “Back up, these are confidential files.”

“Come on,” Deadlock wasn’t whining, definitely not.

Ratchet gave him a look, “Shockwave”

“Frag off,” Deadlock said.

“Well, at least one ‘Con needed to notarize it,” Ratchet elbowed him again, “Seriously, get.”

Deadlock’s spark pulsed, something he was starting to learn meant Roddy had transformed. He made for the door, “I’ll be back for that story, old mech.”

“That implies that you think I’m giving it up,” Ratchet called after him.

\- - -

“I’m sorry.”

Deadlock shivered, that voice rolling over and through him. He turned away from where Roddy was trying to draw Slag into the chatterspeak lessons. Deadlock had finally gotten the story from him, apparently Sludge spoke flawless binary, but something about glyphs and english crossed wires for him, so Roddy had improvised.

(“S’something we spoke in Nyon,” Roddy said, voice soft and syrupy in a rare moment of falling into recharge, “Like an inbetween talk.”

“Yeah,” Deadlock whispered back, “We did something like that in Dead End.”)

He looked up at Grimlock, “What for?”

“Wasn’t trying to get in the middle,” Grimlock rumbled, drawing up next to Deadlock, gaze on Roddy.

“Why not?” Deadlock said before his processor could catch up, “Ah, slag, I mean—”

Grimlock’s fans clicked on.

“Slag,” Deadlock repeated, staring up at him.

Grimlock laughed, looking completely at ease, “Nope, Grimlock.”

“Wait, _really_?” Deadlock gaped.

“Hot Rod’s cute,” Grimlock shrugged, “I noticed that the day he showed up. And you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Not so bad,” Deadlock repeated, faintly. Grimlock laughed again.

“Not so bad,” He agreed, his gaze drifting over to Deadlock, looking him up and down, visor flashing.

Deadlock didn’t say anything, dazed and trying to process the new information.

“Let me know,” Grimlock chuckled, walking away, and Deadlock shivered.

\- - -

“Shut up,” Roddy smacked him.

“I’m serious!” Deadlock hissed, sitting next to Roddy on their berth “Plus, I see the way he looks at you.”

“He does _not_ ,” Roddy smacked him again.

“He does _so_ ,” Deadlock hit him back.

“No one looks at me like that,” Roddy insisted.

“I look at you like that,” Deadlock hissed, “What the frag?”

Roddy faltered, crossing an arm across his chassis. Deadlock frowned, hooking a hand in his collar faring to draw him closer, “I do.”

“I was...around. On Cybertron,” Roddy said, but allowed himself to be pulled in, “And then we bonded and it wasn’t even a choice and now—”

“Roddy,” Deadlock stopped him, desperately, “Stop, no— we— I— Frag.”

“S’okay,” Roddy drew in closer, “I know we’re good now.”

“Roddy, we were good then,” Deadlock pushed him back against the wall and swung around to straddle his lap, “You think I was fragging anyone else? You think I was committing _treason_ for anyone else? You think I was _showing my spark_ to anyone else?”

Roddy was stubbornly silent, not looking at him. Deadlock groaned, dropping his helm to Roddy’s, “I picked you. And I’d pick you again.”

Roddy shuddered, turning into the contact, servos coming up to clutch at his. Deadlock tipped forward and kissed him, nipping his lip plate until energon sprung up, licking at it, “Hey.”

“What,” Roddy curled down, his head hitting Deadlock’s chassis.

“Should spike me,” Deadlock mumbled, licking around Roddy’s audial.

“Frag,” Roddy swore, and with a click of panel his spike was pressurized.

“Mm, help me out,” Deadlock let his own panel move away, and tilted his hips up, trying to catch Roddy’s spike. He sighed when Roddy finally lined them up, charge crackling each new node as his spike slid inexorably deeper.

“That’s so good,” Deadlock sighed again when he was fully seated in Roddy’s lap, rolling his hips back and forth to relish the crackling charge in his valve, “You’re so good.”

Roddy moaned, servos scrambling at Deadlock’s back.

“Hey,” Deadlock said again, pulling back enough to coax Roddy’s mouth back to his. He didn’t think too hard, just let his chest plates transform away, “Yeah?”

Roddy unlatched a servo from Deadlock’s back and brought it up to trace around his spark chamber. Deadlock made a wounded noise, valve cycling down hard. Roddy let his own chest plating split, “Yeah.”

The thing was, Roddy was in his spark every day now, a piece of him zinging about the whole place, dumping emotions at unregulated quantities. He knew Roddy’s spark, maybe not as well as his own yet, but intimately, as part of him. Like a new upgrade that integrated smoothly.

True as that was, it was _nothing_ compared to the warm bath of fritzing energy and light that was all of Roddy.

The bond exploded into color and feeling, their sparks’ ecstasy at being brought back together looping through them unendingly. Deadlock moaned, high and sharp, as the wave of pure spark energy lit every bit of his sensor net up, making every inch of Roddy under him, around him, in him, that much _more_. 

Overloading almost wasn’t a choice.

Roddy made a wounded noise, the bond oscillating more and more feelings and charge and euphoria than they could handle, and locked up, spark flaring out a burst of light and spike following on its heels, transfluid hitting the dialed up nodes in Deadlock’s valve. Deadlock had a moment to think _what came first the spark or the spike_ as he was pulled through as well.

\- - -

“Hi,” Roddy sounded more than a little giddy and Deadlock had to suppress a noise.

“Hi,” Grimlock chuckled, lounging back on the ground in front of them, not nearly so reserved. The sound reverberated through them in that quality that seemed unique to _Grimlock_ and they both shivered.

“Really?” Roddy turned to Deadlock, a little plaintive, but nothing but excitement and heat and a little bit of nervousness in his spark, “I mean, _really_?”

“I know,” Deadlock agreed, opticking Grimlock, “But, really.”

“Really?” Grimlock repeated.

Roddy fidgeted, looking shy. Deadlock grinned, “Roddy here doesn’t think you want him.”

Even without a visible face Deadlock could tell the way he had suddenly sharpened, zeroing in on Roddy. Grimlock leaned forward, bringing a servo up to hover over Roddy’s chassis, flicking his gaze over to Deadlock.

“Go for it,” Deadlock gestured at Roddy, stepping away and putting some space in between them, “I’ve done all the convincing I can.”

Grimlock rumbled happily, curling a servo around Roddy, nudging him close enough to bump their helms together. He nuzzled at Roddy, all the while rumbling in a way that wasn’t quite all engine, but wasn’t...not either. Roddy’s optics flashed, staring wide at Deadlock, and his fans clicked on. Grimlock chuckled again, low and rolling, “I’ve wanted you since you stepped through the space bridge.”

Roddy made a sharp, surprised noise, engine giving a small rev. Grimlock traced digits down his frame, following the chrome tubing with unerring accuracy. Deadlock belatedly realized his own fans had clicked on, watching someone else with Roddy. No, watching someone else _appreciate_ Roddy. Grimlock kept up his path, down to Roddy’s hips, “I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on some of the more pointed teasing yet. The others have been giving me shit about it the whole time.”

“Y-You always stayed away,” Roddy whined, trying to push into Grimlock’s touch, but Grimlock was taking his time and doing what he wanted. Deadlock crept closer, quietly, not wanting to disturb them. Grimlock knew anyway, and he lifted a servo off Roddy, reaching out to hover over Deadlock’s chassis. They both stopped, looking to Roddy.

Roddy’s optics were bright, so bright, and he was venting harshly, fans having kicked on higher at some point. He nodded, “Yes, yeah. Touch him.”

Deadlock shivered as Grimlock curled a servo around _him_ , drawing _him_ in close. Deadlock let himself drape over Grimlock’s side, pushing his face up to mouth at Grimlock’s mask, “Hmm, hey, can you retract..?”

Grimlock laughed, and his digits resumed their teasing mapping of Roddy’s frame, with the added bonus of his other servo sliding down Deadlock’s back strut, “I hope not, that’s my face.”

“That’s your _face_?” Roddy vocalizer broke on ‘face,’ his fans clicking up to run at full bore. Deadlock grinned, digging his denta into the edge of Grimlock’s _mouthplate_ for a brief moment. Grimlock growled, swatting at Deadlock’s aft.

“Frag,” Deadlock gasped, shuddering all over. Then, “I think Roddy wants to ride your face, sound good?”

“Hot Rod can speak for himself,” Grimlock turned to him _finally_ , nuzzling at Deadlock’s helm, “You hush.”

Roddy whined and there was the unmistakable sound of his panels retracting and the smell of lubricant tanging the air.

“Whaddaya want Roddy?” Deadlock asked, and yelped when Grimlock’s servo swatted his aft again.

“I said _hush_ ,” Grimlock growled. Deadlock shivered and tried to work out whether he was annoyed or into it, “Hot Rod?”

“Please,” Roddy inched closer, “Please. Can I-- Can I ride your face?”

“Good,” Grimlock _purred_ and they both whined in response, “Yes. Deadlock, what do you want?”

“I—” Deadlock frowned, momentarily thrown. This wasn't about him. This was for Roddy, didn't Grimlock understand that?

Grimlock must have sensed something, and he smoothed a servo over Deadlock’s back again, “Or we can figure it out once Hot Rod’s settled where he wants to be.”

“Please,” Roddy panted, so overheated that his frame was redirecting airflow through his mouth. Grimlock nudged Deadlock back, nuzzling at his helm. 

“Help him get comfortable?” He asked, then laid back. 

“C’mere Roddy,” Deadlock grabbed at him, feeling clumsy and slow. Roddy _scrambled_ over Grimlock’s thigh, servos digging into seams and yanking Deadlock’s mouth down onto his own. They moaned, muffled by each other. Deadlock bit down, and moaned again at the rush of energon that tinted their kiss. 

Grimlock rumbled behind them, that engine-not-engine sound filling the clearing and his fans whirring quietly. Deadlock tore his mouth away from Roddy, “C’mon, you gotta mask to ride.”

“Frag,” Roddy whispered, looking dazed, energon pulsing weakly from his lips plate. 

“Yeah, that's the idea,” Deadlock prised Roddy’s digits out of his seams and stumbled them up to Grimlock’s shoulders, where he was laying almost flat, watching the two of them with interest. Deadlock got Roddy in front of him and draped himself across his back, “You wanna be facing me or him?”

“View’s pretty great either way,” He added to Grimlock, while Roddy’s vocalizer spat static. Deadlock hummed, sliding a servo down to roll Roddy’s anterior node between two digits, “He’s got an aft to commit treason for.”

Grimlock laughed, but his gaze was definitely on Deadlock’s servo as it moved, teasing and rolling, eventually shifting to slide digits shallowly into Roddy’s valve. Grimlock’s fans clicked up, “You going to stand there all day?”

Roddy whined again, then tore away from Deadlock. Grimlock caught him as he stumbled, helping him straddle his helm and sink to his knees. Roddy hovered over him, shooting a glance back at Deadlock.

Deadlock grinned, a little wild, a little ‘Con, “Well?”

Grimlock brought a servo up and pushed Roddy down. He invented sharply when his array finally made contact, hitching forward on instinct, “Oh, frag, Primus, slag, _frag_.”

“Hm, I’d appreciate you not saying my brother’s name while we do this,” Grimlock sounded wry and Roddy moaned, curling forward. Deadlock stared, feeling charge heavy and slow. No mouth, vocalizer output somewhere else. He could _talk_ while Roddy rode his face. And riding he was, the surprise having spurred him into moving. 

Deadlock watched the slip slow grind of Roddy’s hips, utterly mesmerized. Roddy moaned as Grimlock laughed again, “Are you just gonna watch?”

“Thinking about it,” Deadlock admitted, warm all over and pretty content as is. There was a sound, and he started, realizing it was Grimlock’s panel retracting, “Alright, I can take a hint.”

Roddy laughed, high and bright, continuing his movement across Grimlock’s mask. Deadlock couldn’t help but watch him a little more, before curiosity got the better of him. He stumbled his way to kneeling between Grimlock’s thighs, optics still on Roddy’s back. He finally looked away and froze, his processor stalling in a moment of confusion. 

Grimlock had popped his valve panel. Only. His valve panel.

“Heard some pretty good things about how you spike,” Grimlock rumbled, finally sounding just the tiny bit staticked. Deadlock groaned.

“Frag, I gotta— Let me—” He whined, processor spiraling through too many speculative trees at once.

“Whatever,” Grimlock’s vents hitched. Roddy was moving smoother now, Grimlock’s mouthplate absolutely painted with his lubricant, “Whatever you want.”

Deadlock growled, charge racing over his lines, jolting him back into sharpness. He ran a digit over Grimlock’s valve mesh, smoothing over the soft, slippery give. His mouth suddenly felt wet, oral lubricant pulsing through it. He opened his mouth, letting his glossa slip out just enough for oral lubricant to flow and gather at the end of it. 

He crossed his optics, watching the liquid gather and bead, before it dropped, splashing on Grimlock’s valve mesh.

Grimlock jolted, powerful hips rising and abdominal plates shifting with the movement. Roddy yelped as he slid forward out of rhythm, craning around to look behind him, “Is he— Are you spitting again?”

Deadlock grinned around his still extended glossa. Another bead of lubricant dripped down to Grimlock’s array. Roddy’s vents hitched, “Oh— Oh, frag.”

Roddy twisted back around, hips hitching forward unevenly, and then stopping completely. Deadlock caught a waft of ozone, a blast of heat in his spark, and knew Roddy’d just overloaded. Grimlock groaned underneath them, servo coming up to urge Roddy back into movement. Deadlock wondered if Roddy had popped his spike too, if there was transfluid all over Grimlock’s visor.

Just like that his own panels popped. He ignored them for a moment, gathering more oral lubricant in his mouth and dipping down to feel the heat of Grimlock’s array across his faceplates. He slid his digits through the mesh again, pushing until Grimlock’s anterior node was exposed to the air, just left off center to his valve entrance. It was cute, a light blinking greenish-blue. Deadlock appreciated it for just a moment.

Then he spit on it.

Grimlock’s hips rocked again, up into Deadlock’s face. He took the invitation, following them back down again, glossa darting out to taste the combination of their lubricants. He hummed, shifting down to shove his glossa forward into Grimlock’s valve, enjoying the heat of him around his helm and charge ratcheting up at the sheer _power_ of the mech underneath him. 

The taste of him was also something else, it pinged back strangely on Deadlock’s chemoreceptors and he wondered if it was a Dinobot thing or if it came from only ever having consumed Earth energon. He pulled back, taking the opportunity to drip more oral lubricant down onto Grimlock’s valve, servo coming up to rub it into the mesh. Grimlock groaned, “Are you going to spike me anytime soon?”

Deadlock looked up, watching Roddy move for a few kliks. Grimlock’s servo was still on his back, drifting down occasionally to run his digits over his aft. Deadlock hummed, “Yeah, guess so.”

He shuffled forward, running his glossa across Grimlock’s abdominal plating as he went, smearing oral lubricant before he lined himself up and thrust in. Grimlock all out moaned, the first time he had done so, and Deadlock moaned right back, crackling wet charge gripping his spike. Grimlock’s valve felt _different_ , different from Roddy’s and his own and every other Well born Cybertronian Deadlock had shared a berth with.

Grimlock’s nodes spiralled up, and they felt less like solid nodes and more like clusters of smaller nodes. Deadlock fought to stay still as Grimlock cycled his valve, and the spiralling pattern became even more apparent, as it felt like his valve was _twisting_ around Deadlock’s spike.

Deadlock wondered what Grimlock’s spike looked like.

A sound punched out of his vocalizer, cracking halfway through and layered in static. His hips hitched back and then forward again, a messy uneven thrust that he was barely in control of. Grimlock made an appreciative sound, grinding his own hips in a movement for Deadlock to match. Deadlock ex-vented, and worked to move with him, eventually catching the rhythm.

“Frag,” Deadlock ground out through gritted denta, when he realized the rhythm they’d picked up was the same as Roddy’s. His charge surging higher and higher with each clang of their hips together.

Grimlock’s servo appeared suddenly, reaching down to feel where Deadlock was plunging into him, pushing his mesh open and framing his valve entrance with his digits. They brushed Deadlock’s spike as he thrust in, and he couldn’t do anything but stare at those points of connection.

“Keep—” Grimlock’s vents hitched, a low moan catching in his vocalizer, “Keep going. Close”

Deadlock heard Roddy whine, but kept his optics on Grimlock’s array. He pulled out slowly, then thrust back in _hard_. Grimlock moaned again, and Deadlock was rapidly realizing he wanted to do anything at all to keep that sound going. He braced a servo on Grimlock’s hip, sneaking the digits of the other one under Grimlock’s to get at his node. 

Grimlock groaned, a rolling, deep sound, as Deadlock pinched his node and thrust in at the same time. Deadlock rolled his digits over and over the node, feeling it swell and tighten with energon, hips continuing their drive the entire time.

Grimlock moaned again, “Oh, oh fuck.”

His valve spiraled, node clusters expanding and rubbing tight against Deadlock’s spike. Deadlock caught the barest ripple of charge before the rest _slammed_ into him, pushing him into overload as well. He ground his hips forward into that spiralling valve, his last bit of processing power dedicated to his digits rubbing Grimlock’s anterior node.

His optics onlined again to the feeling of Grimlock batting his servo away, a hiss reaching his audials. More sound filtered in, slowly. He pulled out slowly, hissing along with Grimlock this time, and his spike housed itself immediately, charge well and truly spent. Roddy’s voice reached him then, “Oh Primus— Oh please, please, please—”

Deadlock stirred long enough to work himself up to straddling Grimlock’s hips, “Mm, can you— Hm, get him back here? Fronta me?”

Grimlock plucked Roddy up, placing him back down straddled over his abdominal plating, right in front of Deadlock, settling back on his elbow joints. Roddy sobbed, hips rolling wildly, trying to connect with something, _anything_. Deadlock hooked a servo around his throat, pulling until Roddy leaned back, shoulders to his chassis.

“Hey,” Deadlock grinned at Grimlock, “Wanna see a neat trick?”

Roddy sobbed again, hip hitching up into empty air, no doubt realizing what was coming. Grimlock rumbled, a happy, satiated sound, “Sure.”

Deadlock tightened his servo around Roddy’s throat, “Whaddaya think Roddy? Got it in you?”

“Please,” Roddy gasped, stilling himself to just the barest tremor, “Please, please, this is— ah, hah, hngh— special enough?”

“Yeah Roddy,” Deadlock hummed, nuzzling his helm, “Definitely special.”

Deadlock scratched at Roddy’s plating, right over his spark, with the servo not holding his throat. Then he pulled back and let fly, slapping Roddy’s valve and anterior node.

Roddy screamed. Deadlock slid his servo down, letting the stream of lubricant pass through his digits. He hooked his chin over Roddy’s shoulder, watching raptly as he spattered all over Grimlock’s abdominal plating, “So good Roddy, you’re so good.”

Roddy whined, sinking back further into Deadlock, lubricant finally petering off. Grimlock propped himself up on his elbows, visor darkened in hue. Deadlock grinned at him, letting his servo drop from Roddy’s throat, tipping him forward onto Grimlock’s chest. He grunted, but took the weight easily.

Deadlock settled back on top of Grimlock’s hips, sliding his digits through the lubricant that covered his abdominal plating. Grimlock twitched up into the contact, rumbling. Deadlock grinned up at him, then bent forward to lick over a wet, cooling plate. Grimlock snorted a short laugh, “Oh, you’re a menace, aren’t you?”

“Is,” Roddy mumbled, “Always.”

“Hey,” Deadlock objected, pausing to lick at another plate, “I’m nice.”

“Sure,” Roddy stretched a little, sliding down Grimlock just enough to bring his hips down to where Deadlock was playing. Deadlock lifted an orbital ridge at Grimlock and leaned forward, darting his glossa across Roddy’s still bared array. Roddy whined, “Hey.”

Grimlock brought a servo up and clamped Roddy in place. Deadlock pulled back and smiled at him, “Roddy’s always got a lotta charge to spend.”

Roddy whined in protest, but moved into it when Deadlock licked across his valve again. He brought lubricant slippery digits up to rub at Roddy’s aft port. Roddy stuttered, “S-So nice, hngh. Not so n-n-nice when you’re— Oh Primus— playing with m-my aft.”

Deadlock hummed on his valve, enjoying the shriek it inspired and the way Grimlock kept him in place. He licked and sucked at Roddy’s mesh, his digits rubbing over Roddy’s port slow and soft. He hooked his glossa over the edge of Roddy’s valve rim and tugged at the same time he sunk a digit past his port.

Roddy moaned and shivered, valve squelching as it cycled through one more little overload. Deadlock pulled back, tracing his glossa up to where his digit was sun in Roddy, licking the hot, soft metal of his port. Roddy shuddered, “Stop, stop, too much.”

Deadlock eased his digit out, patting at Grimlock’s servo until he moved it and Deadlock could sprawl over Roddy’s back. Grimlock dropped back to both elbows, hydraulics hissing as their weight redistributed. Deadlock was definitely going to consider the fact that he’d held them up on one elbow. Later though.

Roddy ex-vented, hydraulics hissing and leaving him strutless between the two of them, “Mm, thanks.”

“Yeah Roddy,” Deadlock purred, mouthing at the back of his neck.

“Anytime,” Grimlock hummed, ducking his helm down to nuzzle the both of them.

\- - -

Deadlock strolled through the open medbay doors, and caught the wrench that came for his helm immediately, “Really Ratchet? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, I wish you were hurt,” Ratchet grumbled, but his optics held a vague apology.

“Total honesty, who did you think I was?” Deadlock passed the wrench to him, hopping to sit up on the medberth Ratchet was leaning against.

“Optimus,” Ratchet grumbled. Deadlock laughed, long and loud. Ratchet stared up at him, face torn between the irritation he was clearly still feeling and laughing along, “Hot Rod finally recharging at normal hours?”

“What?” Deadlock managed through lingering giggles.

“You weren’t here before me today,” Ratchet waved a servo to the medbay behind him, “I hoped you both were getting some real recharge.”

“Oh, yeah,” Deadlock’s smile shifted into a smirk, “We were pretty worn out.”

“Energizer bunnies,” Ratchet rolled his optics.

“Not even gonna ask,” Deadlock rolled his optics right back, “Why’re you mad at Prime?”

“Aft-headed possessive fucker,” Ratchet grumbled.

“Oh,” Deadlock drew the word out, leaning back on his servos, “Who’d he take exception to you fragging this time?”

“This time?” Ratchet squinted at him, “Just what does that mean?”

“Listen mech,” Deadlock shrugged as best as he was able, “I may be mecha non grata around here, but I still hear talk. And the talk says that Prime and his spy mate are always grumpy when they don’t like whoever’s berth you last warmed.”

“I hate you,” Ratchet said plainly, and Deadlock kicked out at him, accepting the return swat as his due.

“Well?” Deadlock prompted, “I’ll you mine if you tell me yours.”

“I don’t need to hear anymore about you and Hot Rod’s ‘face life,” Ratchet inched over though, bringing his arm into contact with Deadlock’s thigh, a small gesture that warmed his spark.

“Not just Roddy,” Deadlock said, sing-song.

“Oh?” Ratchet opticked him with renewed interest.

“I’m not saying anymore until you share,” Deadlock mimed welding his lips shut, “And I know you want to know.”

Ratchet groaned, “Primus' sake, fine. It was one of the new ones off the space bridge last week, some seeker, I don’t know, I can’t remember his designation. Gold plating.”

“My respect for you has soared to new heights,” Deadlock snickered, “And that explains why Prime is so torqued.”

“Enlighten me,” Ratchet pinched at his hip joint, making him squirm.

“Sunstorm,” Deadlock explained, “He’s uh, hm. A little bit of a Primus type.”

“What on Earth does that mean?” Ratchet demanded, “I mean, the radiation was new, but he wasn’t weird about ‘facing.”

“He’s really into Primus, I don’t know,” Deadlock yelped, unable to dodge another hard pinch, “Prime probably just feels awkward about the guy who’s fanatical about his shiny chest bauble berthing the mech he not so secretly wants to bond.”

“He doesn’t want to bond me,” Ratchet said, wearily, like he’d been repeating it a lot recently, “He’s bonded to Jazz.”

“And Starscream’s bonded to Megatron,” Deadlock shot back, “And Thundercracker. And Skywarp. You can bond more than one mech, Ratch.”

“Not my spark,” Ratchet rubbed at his chest plates, “Not built for it.”

Deadlock shrugged, letting them fall into a companionable silence until Ratchet poked him, “Your turn.”

Deadlock grinned, both at the rising memory files and the eagerness Ratchet was poorly hiding. He liked this Ratchet. This is what he had wanted, for the one mech that hadn’t been scared of him ever to loosen up, stop being weirdly reticent about his berth habits, to gossip about stupid slag with him. Deadlock let his pedes swing, “So, sharing is apparently okay.”

“Unbelievable,” Ratchet shook his head, but caught Deadlock’s optics again expectantly, “And?”

“Pits, Ratch, it was really good,” Deadlock grinned, “I don’t think we’re quite up to Megatron and Starscream level, but we were both pretty distracted the whole time.”

Ratchet laughed a little, the last of his irritation melting from his frame. Deadlock watched him relax, considering what to share next, what might make even _Ratchet_ pink up in the face and chase him out of the medbay. He was still thinking when Swoop ducked in the door.

“Oh! What him Deadlock doing here?” Swoop asked, rushing over to the medberth he and Ratchet were on, “Hurting?”

“No, no,” Deadlock smiled at him, genuinely glad to see him, “Just visiting Ratch here.”

“Good, good,” Swoop smiled back, “Him Mama need more visitors not hurting.”

Ratchet sighed, but it was fond, “How many times do I have to tell you boys not to call me that.”

Swoop’s optics sparkled, “Him Mama going to have to one more I guess.”

Deadlock froze, the glyphs catching up in his processor, “Wait, Ratchet is him Mama?”

Ratchet rolled his optics, the gesture nothing but fond, “You build five mechs _one time_ and they call you Mom for the rest of functioning.”

“Him Deadlock not know?” Swoop asked, and Deadlock turned slowly to look at him, noting the downright _mischief_ on his features.

“Swoop,” Deadlock said, a note of pleading in his tone, “At least give me a head start.”

Swoop grinned, slow and big, “Him Mama hear about what him Grimlock did yesterday?”

Deadlock took the opening, throwing himself from the medberth and sprinting for the door. He cleared it just as he heard Swoop say blithely, “Him Grimlock did them Hot Rod Deadlock. Or maybe other way around?”

He transformed in the hallway, doing his best to push the urgent need to escape across the bond, hoping Roddy got the hint and ran. For a moment all there was was his struggling with the bond, tires squealing as they searched for fraction on the Ark floor, and the sick sense of foreboding hanging in the air.

“YOU GET BACK HERE YOU PIT BOUND BRAT, I’M REFORMATTING YOU INTO A TOASTER.”

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to @KaneCorpCrusher on twitter for going 'great idea but what if grimlock bottomed?' you revolutionized this whole thing
> 
> come shout at me about robots on twitter @floralpunkcfb


End file.
